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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084301">Rome</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormQueen27/pseuds/BookwormQueen27'>BookwormQueen27</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown &amp; King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:41:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormQueen27/pseuds/BookwormQueen27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Delia was so tired of being second. </p><p>Aka, Delia's backstory.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trigger Warnings; Thoughts of Suicide, Domestic violence, Addiction.</p><p>Hey! This turned darker than I thought it would, but I felt the need to write Delia's backstory. Please comment any prompts you may have, anything you like or dislike. Or, just comment, I really don't care. Thanks a Ton!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Delia stood alone in her apartment, taking in how empty it was. There were no marks from her old lover. Nothing to remind her of her mistakes. Well, nothing other than the heavy ring that laid on her finger and the sharp ache of betrayal in her heart. She was alone once more. Like she’d always be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind screamed about how stupid she had been, believing that she was loved. He, she couldn’t even think of his name without crying, had always been distant. The only time he hadn’t been was when they first met. He had accepted her quirkiness, her oddness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had of course been a party, because where else would two college students meet. He had been tipsy and she was drunk, but he hadn't seemed to care. He talked to her, flirted, played with her hair. Turns out, he was in school to start a business and she was a second year psychology student. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had to be love, between them. Why else would they have dropped everything so quickly? Why else would they’ve gotten married so fast? He told her that she was his only love. Delia smiled and whispered back that he was hers as well. And, she meant it, with all of her heart and soul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had eloped, of course, as both were far too caught up in the rushed relationship to think much over, or, at least, Delia was. So they were set. Both were in their early twenties and recent college drop-outs, and also, broke as dirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their ‘love’ began to mellow out as they both got jobs. Delia worked at a store during the days and on certain nights, she worked at a bar for extra cash. He had worked in the lower level of some business firm. All felt well, until it wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They started to fight more and more often, over small things. He came home later than normal, her shirt was covered in stale liquor, tiny things that came with life. It was fine, Delia was content. But, then they grew more frequent, over larger things, they grew more violent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delia flinched as she thought of her past fights.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop fucking stealing my money for your fucking vapes!” He screamed, throwing a plate harshly to the floor, the sound of glass shattering echoing around the tiny apartment. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Delia just calmly laid on the couch, mellowed out due to the amount of vaping she had done, “Maybe,” She growled, her voice rough, “I wouldn’t vape if you,” She pointed her pinky at him, the rest of her hand on the damned vape pen, “You, weren’t such a shitty husband,” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt horrible when she woke up to an empty bed. She’d try to stop vaping, but it was the only thing she could really do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman began to walk down the hall, stopping at random marks on the floor and walls, letting the memories take over her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned heavily on the wall as she made it to one of the spots on the carpet. It was just a small rusted color dot, but it caused her so much pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was drunk as he made his way down the hall, but Delia wasn’t done. He couldn’t just tell her that he had extra paperwork. His shift ended six-fucking-hours ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey! You can’t leave, where the hell were you?” She grabbed his shoulder roughly. In a flash, he shot around, the sound of flesh on flesh sharply breaking through everything. His eyes were wild.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Behind him, Delia stood, her eyes wide and her hand holding her cheek in shock. A single drop of blood fell from her nose, hitting the cream carpet below, but neither of them cared. He may have done a lot against her, his own wife, but he had never hit her, not once. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m going to bed,” He muttered, before going into their bedroom. The door slammed the door shut so harshly that the walls shook. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delia stood sobbing, her own hand pressed against her own cheek now. She pressed her eyes tightly shut before moving into the bedroom, noting that he had taken all blankets and pillows from the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the room laid a single, empty mattress, the letter he had left still placed near the headboard. The area held far to memories, the odor he had left too strong. Delia quickly fled into the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a small room, but he never liked it much. No, he thought it was far too small, too bright. But, to Delia, it was enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, she stood, looking in the mirror, her ring heavy and her heart heavier. She must have been blind not to see what was happening around her. She couldn’t believe she never caught on that he liked men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her bright hair mocked her, he had loved it, from the beginning, turns out his boyfriend had hair the same color. Her hands began to rummage through the draws, going until they found the cold steel scissors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t handle it, coming in second again. She never wanted that. She tried constantly to be everything. She worked for the highest grades for her parents. Became class president for her ‘friends’. She dropped out of school for her love. Yet, she always was in second, dammit!</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Delia tightly gripped the scissors in one of her shaky hands. She was so tired, so hurt, she had nothing, not anymore. Her right hand was raised above her left arm, the sharp tip of the scissors held above an artery. She had no idea if this would work, with her luck, it wouldn’t, but she didn’t care, feeling anything would be better than what she felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delia was just about to bring it done onto her arm, when she made eye contact with herself in the mirror. She looked so much older than she was, the bags under her eyes huge. No, she couldn’t do this. She had to prove herself. She was worth it. She could be first. She would be first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He may be in Rome with his boyfriend, but she would find her own place in life. She would find love. She would find her own Rome. Delia refused to give into how she felt. There had to be a way to move on. And she would, by taking it one step at a time. </span>
</p>
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